


Coffee

by Arisprite



Series: By Grace, We Are Saved [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coffee, Gen, Grumpy!Cas, Mornings Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:25:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie finds out that Castiel is <i>not</i> a morning person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee

Charlie fought down a flutter of nerves as she knocked on the motel room door. She’d left Castiel asleep yesterday afternoon (and wasn’t _that_ a weird thought, an angel asleep?) after stocking him up with more groceries and other essentials she thought were necessary for an invalid, including the DVD of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. She’d also left him with a cell phone, charged up and preloaded with her number, and Sam and Dean’s, but she hadn’t heard a peep from him, which was kinda concerning. 

The knock sounded, too loud sounding, even though it was already after ten. There was a muffled noise from inside, and then silence again. She knocked one more time, reassured that he was at least alive in there, and then the door creaked open. Charlie had to quickly bite her lip at the sight of him. 

“Wow, guess I should have gotten you some hair gel.” 

Castiel’s hair was the definition of bed head, sticking up on the top impressively, and flattened to one side. His face was creased with those red pillow lines, he was getting a little more than a five o’clock shadow, and his eyes were barely open. “You alright, there Castiel?” Charlie asked. 

He grumbled, and turned his back on her in favor of flopping back down into his bed, and wriggling into the nest of covers he’d created. She let him ignore her, and go back to dozing, and she entered the room, and put down the supplies she’d brought: more food, some less intense pain pills, and most importantly coffee. 

The smell started to permeate, and Castiel twitched, sticking his face out of the blankets, still blinking too slowly to be truly there. She took the cup she’d gotten for him, and handed it to him. 

“Here you go, big guy.” He took the coffee, and sipped it without really emerging. She’d gotten him mocha, with chocolate and caramel syrup, and judging my the surprised noises of appreciation, he approved. 

She sat on the other bed with her own coffee, darker with just cream and some dark chocolate, and watched him gulp down his drink from under the covers without spilling a drop. Impressive. 

“Didn’t know you liked coffee.” She said, once he’d drained the cup, and was more vertical. He licked his lips, chasing the last drops of chocolate before answering. 

“I acquired a taste for it while I was on the road, but I’ve never had it with chocolate before. It’s very good.”

Charlie nodded her agreement, sipping her own. 

“Add chocolate to pretty much anything, and I’ll eat it.” She said. 

Castiel set the empty cup on the side table regretfully, and sat up fully, yawning. She replied with a yawn herself, still waking up from the three hour drive, twice in two days. 

“Did you sleep okay?” She asked, before taking a bigger gulp of caffeine. He blinked at her, looking adorably rumpled, like a puppy. Whoo, she needed more coffee, that was an angel of the Lord there, Charlie. No need to get sappy. She shook herself. 

Castiel rubbed his face, looking slightly more alert. 

“I dreamt.” He said, voice still gruff from sleep. “I did not enjoy it.”

Charlie winced in sympathy. 

“Nightmares suck. Sorry about that.”

There was a stretch of silence, while Castiel worked on waking up completely. Charlie drank her coffee and ended up staring into space, thinking about guilt and nightmares and other random topics her brain fired up. She really needed more sleep. 

As her thoughts wandered, she found herself thinking of Dean. He’d had a hard night as well; the ruin of the trees could attest to it. But she still stood by what she’d said to Sam. They’d started down this path, and they couldn’t stop in the middle, not with both Dean and Castiel in the states they were. Dean was a mess, and though Sam seemed to think throwing Castiel at him would fix it all, Charlie didn’t think that was true. And Castiel was hurting too, and in no shape to being someone else’s bandage. Let them both get over the shock: Dean of losing Castiel, and Castiel of losing his grace. Then, let the two of them be in the same room, and maybe, _maybe_ , there wouldn’t be an explosion worthy of a Die Hard movie. 

So, as much as she might hate lying and sneaking around, she was committed to this. Never let it be said that Charlie Bradbury half-assed anything.

By this point, Castiel had reemerged from his nest of blankets, and was sitting on the edge of the bed, bare feet on the floor and shivering slightly. He looked at her, and blinked. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly, like he hadn’t noticed her there before, and the coffee just appeared on the side table.

“Checking up on you,” Charlie replied. He looked faintly annoyed, 

“You should be with Dean. I’m fine here on my own.”

She huffed a little, taken aback by his abruptness.

_Well, you’re welcome_.

“I was,” Charlie said. “All yesterday.”

Castiel rubbed a hand across his face again, looking at the floor. He blew out a gust of air. 

“How is he? And Sam?” His tone was apologetic, and Charlie berated herself for getting miffed. He was hurting and confused, he was allowed to bitch if he wanted to. Charlie bit her lip, wondering how much to tell him. 

“Sam is fine. Finishing the trials put him back on the fast track, as far as health goes. And Dean...” Charlie paused. Castiel’s eyes were fixed on hers. “He’s hurting...a lot. He’s angry, and sad, and...” 

“And?” Castiel prompted, his voice rough. 

“He misses you.”

Castiel took her words like bullets, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing. 

“I’m know.” He said. “I’m sorry.”

He said the phrase like he’d said it a thousand times, but he never expected to be forgiven. Charlie reached across the aisle between the beds, and touched his knee. 

“I didn’t come here or say that to make you feel bad. I understand, I do. You need this time, and Dean isn’t ready either.”

He peeled his eyes open and looked at her, tilting his head the way that was always described in the books. 

“It’s okay.” Charlie continued. “Me and Sam, we’ll get you both through this.”

He looked grateful, and raw and guilty and she couldn’t understand how she’d thought his face was a blank before.


End file.
